Manifestation
by TwoTrack
Summary: One of Harry's dreams leads to something he had never hoped dare was possible. (no slash, OotP spoilers)
1. Dream

**Manifestation  
**Dream

**Rating:** K+

Genre: Angst/Mystery

**Summary: **It was just another night, and just another dream. Why should he think anything would be different? But when he woke up, the next day, _everything_ was different, and once again his heart broke; and he felt nothing could ever be the same.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Harry Potter. This was written simply as a diversion to boredom.

A/N: Wow, um, written waaay back when. Like a few months after OotP. So, it doesn't deal with anything in HBP.

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* * *

_

_He was there again; in the terrifying Department of Mysteries, trying to decide which door to go through to find Sirius, in the room that he now knew as the Death Chamber. But...again? And how did he know it was the Death Chamber? _

The fight with Voldemort..remember, after, Dumbledore called it the Death Chamber... a sudden thought flashed through his head, but it flickered out just as quickly, knowing it did not belong, just as Death Eaters did not belong in the Ministry of Magic...Harry had had no fight with Voldemort for a year, at least. Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic?

Harry shook his head, willing the obtrusive voices be silent, till he find the right door. Sirius was behind the right door, about to fall through the veil, fall through into death, condemned, killed by his own cousin...No, Sirius was safe at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black...Harry blinked, having no idea where his thoughts were coming from. They were just, there, skipping through his head, laughing at him when he tried to be serious...SIRIUS!

He burst through the nearest door, hoping against hope that he was not too late..although what could he do?...or maybe Dumbledore had been doubly attentive and somehow saved Sirius...or maybe Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley...any one of them could have saved Sirius.

No, you know they could not, it was all your fault, only YOU could have sav- -

His head reeled as he took in the scene, somehow familiar, although he intuitively knew that déjà vu was out of the question. He did not see much fighting; only hiding, Neville in an undersized nook, a small and ostensibly young Death Eater in another; only slaughter, the wizards taking advantage of Dumbledore's arrival to Stun as many Death Eaters as they could...

Dumbledore's already here, you're too late.

Harry had hardly taken in this imperceptible sneer when he noticed one pair still dueling..Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius Black, flashes of red light dashing between them as quickly as the tan colour that was their hands flashed back and forth-defending, attacking, defending, attacking, a seemingly endless dance that would only end in the final destination, the unavoidable fate of all, death...

Harry stood mesmerized-watched, transfixed as one of the red lights struck home; watched as a member of the Black family fell through the veil; watched as the victor stood as spellbound as Harry himself-as Dumbledore, as Moody, as most Death Eaters, watched, watched, watched as Bellatrix fell through the dreaded veil, the veil that Harry somehow knew was Death; same as he knew that he would never see the repulsive face of Bellatrix Lestrange again. Neville had been avenged. Sirius had been avenged..

As he thought this, Harry looked down, saw Sirius standing silently, gazing back at Harry, sweaty but triumphant, injured but alive, a victory on his face that was somehow sad as well as joyful, an air of fulfillment intermingled with deficiency, a horrible feel of something lacking, something incomplete, something extremely, terribly, wrong...

* * *

He woke up with a start. There had been a dream; he knew this by the exhaustion that came after intense emotion. Exhaustion that by all rights should not have come after such long sleep. 

Lying back down, Harry waited while his dream-or was it a nightmare?-came back to him, careful not to think of anything, anyone else lest that thing, that person become forever intertwined with his dream.

Flashes of it were coming now, even as he heard the Weasleys begin to stir, Hedwig begin to coo softly. There had been Dumbledore, Tonks, Moody... Lupin, Kingsley...Sirius...all in the Department of Mysteries..

Harry felt beads of sweat pop out on his face. Sirius, whom he had seen fall through the veil by his very own eyes. Why did he have this dream, this horrible reminder of what could never be, of Sirius well, of Sirius alive, of Sirius with a confused look on his face as he saw Lestrange fall through the veil.

Harry closed his eyes, going back over his dream. He carefully took in every detail, everything that he could remember, and then some. The dream stopped right after he had locked eyes with Sirius. But Harry, no longer a participant in his dream but a vigilant observer, caught a glance from Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. Perusing the old wizards face carefully, Harry saw many of the same emotions he had found on Siriuss and Lestranges faces. But there was also a gleam of knowledge in the aged mans face, as if he knew something that Harry did not. Opening his eyes, Harry silently got up and dressed, shoving the absurd thought from his head. Dumbledore knew many a thing more than Harry.


	2. Plan

"Harry! Wake up, stupid git!" Harry blinked and opened his eyes, only to close them quickly as something white flew at his head. As it hit his head, he wondered fleetingly why there was some weight on his stomach also. Groaning, he rolled over-onto something soft that clawed and hissed. 

"Bloody hell!" He imitated Ron's chief curse. With one ungainly move Harry threw himself onto the floor, where he sat tangled in his sheets, blinking at a very disgruntled Crookshanks. It blinked back at him before leaping off the bed-in a fashion much more fluid that Harry's- it's head almost as high as his tail.

Bemused, and trying very much to hide it, Harry lifted himself up from the floor, returning the pillow to Ron's head. Ron dodged the inadequate missile easily and continued downstairs, chuckling quietly to himself.

They had returned to Sirius's old house. Dumbledore had seen no reason to change their headquarters-if Harry had no problem with it. Sirius had left the house to him. Or rather, to Lupin and he, as Harry couldn't be the legal owner of anything because of his age. Harry had only known when Dumbledore contacted him the week after he had arrived at the Dursley's. Harry's heart had lifted almost instantaneously; the thought of having somewhere he could go during vacations, a wizard somewhere, had given him hope. Harry had moved into the room he had shared with Ron the previous summer at the end of June.

A rare smile graced Harry's face as he bent and picked up the blanket to make his bed. It crossed his mind how queer (A/N-i find it weird how that word is rarely used) a smile felt on his face. His happiness disapparated instantly as he remembered why he was so seldom joyful. _He_ had lived in this place, after all; for all Harry knew he might have slept in this very room. The weight of oppression settled into him once more, and hunching his shoulders, he left the bedroom.

That's how it happened, nowadays. He would forget, for a few minutes, why he was so depressed. Then it would all come rushing back, crushing him. This load was with him always, haunting him, following his steps, echoing in his words. It was nearly the same with everyone-especially Remus. _The last Marauder_, Harry thought dully. Most of his thoughts were dull and censored; it was easier this way to avoid contact with thoughts and emotions that would hurt him.

Harry sighed and entered the kitchen.

* * *

Hermione glanced up as Harry entered the kitchen. Her heart ached instantly. Since he had arrived at the end of July, he had been in the same mood-alternately angry, depressed, and strangely, resigned. Hermione had wondered often why he was this way. The most she could do-and she did it willingly and frequently-was to let him know that she was and would always be by his side. Catching his eye, Hermione inclined her head toward the seat next to her. He nodded and made his way to where Ron and Hermione, the lone occupants of the room, were sitting. 

"Good morning," she said warmly as he sat, slipping her hand into his. He nodded but continued to stare at the table, not noticing the scowl Ron aimed their way from across the table. Hermione, however, did, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Ron, quite unlike Harry, had not failed to notice how Hermione was changing. She had grown quite a bit taller, naturally. But while Ron and Harry continued to grow vertically while maintaining their thin physiques, she had filled out quite nicely. Her hair had also gotten much less bushy.

"So...what're we doing today, then?" Ron asked. "I think we've cleaned enough of the house, honestly. It could take over our Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"Well," said Hermione with forced cheer, "seeing as we've cleaned out the majority of the house, Dumbledore has decided we could do with a bit of learning; and he's decided we should continue with the D.A.! Don't worry, Harry," she added hastily, for at these words Harry had looked up sharply. "Professor Lupin will teach us, you don't have to."

"Er...It's not that, just...Dumbledore's here?" Harry asked rather quickly.

"Oh, yes, he arrived this morning. Took us all by surprise, he did. Right now they're in the den talking about something or other-decided to give us the kitchen to have our breakfast." Hermione answered, taking a spoonful of porridge as if to accompany her words. To her surprise, Harry slid off the bench and hurried out of the kitchen. Mouth slightly open, she turned to Ron, who arched an eyebrow at her. "Didn't even eat that time!"

Ron shrugged. "At least he bothered to come down, didn't he? Mind, I doubt he would've if I hadn't woken him up," he added, with something like pride.

Hermione gave him an amused look before turning to stare at the doorway through which Harry had gone. A small frown crossed her face as she thought, followed by a delighted smile as inspiration struck.

* * *

Harry hurried out of the kitchen and to the den. He doubted that it could be a coincidence-first his unusual dream, then Dumbledore's unusual appearance. He stopped at the door, hearing the murmur of voices inside. A debate arose in him-and ended swiftly. Bending down, Harry put his ear to the keyhole... 

The next moment he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, nose smarting, curses streaming out of his mouth. The second bloody time today! He thought, wondering bitterly what had happened and why. Suddenly a small cough made him look upward.

Dumbledore stood before him in the doorway, an amused smile threatening to appear on his face. Harry scrambled to his feet. "Professor! I'm sorry, Hermione, she just told me you were here-I thought the meeting would be over...appears it isn't, though..." he craned his neck in a poor attempt to look over Dumbledore's tall shoulders.

A firm hand gripped his own shoulders and steered him inside the room. "Ah, but it is, Harry. And you-and your nose, of course-have my deepest condolences. Mad-eye Moody had just informed me you were standing outside the door, and we thought we'd offer you a seat," he waved his wand, "and some food, I daresay you haven't had breakfast yet?" He looked down at Harry, a twinkle appearing in his eye for an instant. Once so common, it was now an oddity to see it on the old, wizened face. Harry blushed pink and shook his head, rubbing his nose.

Harry sat down in his chair, feeling a bit foolish. Looking around, he saw that the meeting was indeed over; the assortment of witches and wizards seemed to have stayed around for some refreshments. In a corner, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood with his arms crossed, apparently giving a lecture to Mundungus Fletcher, who seemed recently awakened. A bit farther away a quite short, hyper man-Dedalus Diggle-was talking to a woman with waist- length, dark blue hair-Nymphadora Tonks. Harry noted with a bit of guilt that her hairstyle suited her well. Giving himself a sort of mental slap, he turned back to Dumbledore, who was...gone.

Even while observing all this, Harry couldn't help but think-_Sirius should be here.  
_  
Harry stood and, frowning, looked for him. He found Dumbledore in what looked like a serious conversation with Mr. Weasley. Wondering if he should interrupt, and if he didn't what he would do instead, his predicament was suddenly solved when his stomach growled menacingly.

"Better get something for that, mate," advised Fred, coming up behind Harry and clapping him on the back.

"Yes, we have a bit of chocolate here," said George, offering Harry a piece of said candy.

Harry looked at it, then the Weasley twins, distrust evident on his face.

"No, tha-that's alright." He said slowly. He didn't trust the two boys since they had given him a ring that, put on for the first time, made him go mad with desire and chase Ginny for ten minutes straight. He had only given up when she had locked herself in a bathroom, yelling at him; and sounding very much like her mother. He had turned away, stricken with tears, when he had caught sight of Professor McGonagall downstairs. His cheeks flushed for the second time in as many minutes.

Fred and George scoffed. "Say, you're not _still_ sore about the ring, are you?"

"Sixteen and never so much as kissed! We had to do something!" George added earnestly.

Harry waved them away. "Thanks anyway. I'll worry about my own love life."

"Or lack thereof, I hope," interposed Mrs. Weasley, hurrying over to the twins, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Following her came a shabby-looking wizard by the name of Remus Lupin. "I'd hate for Minerva to have to deliver another lecture. The woman should stick to Transfiguration."

Mrs. Weasley was, of course, talking about how Professor McGonagall had shouted at a despondent Harry for a quarter of an hour after his rather boorish but enthusiastic approaches. When she had finally realized what was going on, Fred and George were nowhere to be found. Obviously, the whole incident had been privy to many witnesses, who found it highly entertaining, for the most part. Mrs. Weasley had the exact opposite reaction, Disapparating instantly to the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to give her sons a well-earned lecture.

Lupin winked at Harry and turned to Mrs. Weasley. "I doubt Harry has much of an interest in girls; after all, he is only a sixteen-year-old boy, with wild, uncontrolled hormones."

Fred and George snickered. "Right, well, we'd better get going. Business will be booming soon, with the school year so close," Fred said briskly, then turned to Harry. "Oh, and we're thinking of opening a shop in Hogsmeade," he added, with a roguish smile, before Disapparating.

"Now, Harry, I don't think it would be such a wise idea for you to go to Hogsmeade this year," said Mrs. Weasley, turning to him. "Even with Professor Lupin there and all, you never know who might be under He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named's influence. I know for a _fact_ that Ron and Ginny will not be going. I'm glad they have a safe place like Hogwarts to go at al-"

Harry let her ramble on for the moment, and turned to Lupin. "You're going back to teach at Hogwarts?" he asked, astonished. "But Snape told everyone, they all know!"

Lupin gave a bland smile. "Yes, but considering the circumstances-Lord Voldemort's return, the deaths of the Trocks last weekend, Dumbledore hopes that most people will be busy learning how to defend themselves and not worrying about a poor, old professor. And although he also told me we need as many Order members as we can spare to look after the students, I think he just wants to keep an eye on me, see that I won't go after Lestrange and end up dead" he finished bitterly. Seeing the look on Harry's face, Lupin paused and wrinkled his forehead. "I'm sorry, Harry...that was...tactless. I know how hard all this is for you."

Harry ran his tongue over his teeth. _No one knows_..."Yeah. No, it's all right..." He glanced around again. "Say, I came in to talk to Dumbledore, but he's left again." He tried hard to keep disappointment and anger out of his voice.

"No, he's not avoiding you. But as headmaster of Hogwarts, Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, I daresay he's got a lot to be getting on with," replied Lupin. "Don't worry, he'll be back before term starts. What did you want to talk to him about?" he adds, attempting to make his voice sound casual.

Harry hesitated. "Nothing much. A dream I had."

Lupin nods tolerantly. "Right. Get some breakfast, then run up to the drawing room. We have a lot to get through."

* * *

Remus stared at Hermione. "No. It's out of the question." 

Hermione looked at him pleadingly. "Please, professor. It would be good for him, I know it will."

"Hermione, you know that's impossible. The danger that could come from it-"

"And what about the danger from just _staying_ in here, doing nothing?" Hermione would have continued, but the look on Lupin's face was so reminiscent of Harry's that she fell silent.

"Hermione...what if something were to happen...Harry's too important."

"Who would know? I've only told you and Ron. We could use Harry's invisibility cloak-or we could fly, there's some old brooms in one of the rooms-or...please, Professor Lupin! Tell them we're going to Diagon Alley or something."

Remus studied Hermione's face. Her proposition had some merit, and he was sorely tempted to take her advice; simply because she was the most sensible of the three of them, and he knew she was right, to a level.

"_Please_, Professor Lupin. Just a short walk, it doesn't even have to be a picnic. Just so we can get out of this house for a bit."

He stared at her, frustrated. "All right. Go pack a few sandwiches, and we'll go...to my old village. I'll have to talk to some of the others, to get them to come along." He swept out of the room, leaving an ecstatic Hermione and an astounded Ron to stare after him.

* * *

Satiated, Harry headed up to the drawing room. As he walked he looked straight ahead. Being in this house caused him a mixture of strange feelings. If Peter hadn't escaped on that awful night, Harry would be living here with Sirius. They might have walked up these stairs, laughing at something or other, safe and whole. If only... 

"Harry!" Someone darted out of the room ahead. He blinked at the site of Hermione, in a worn traveling cloak, with her hair tied back and face shining. "Come on, Harry, we're all waiting for you to go."

"We? Where are we going?"

"Just come on!" she grasped his arm tightly and he allowed her to pull him into the room.

Inside his eyes narrowed at Ron, Lupin, Tonks, and a strange witch Harry felt he had seen before, all dressed more or less the same as Hermione. "What's going on? Where are we going-did something happen?"

"Everything's fine, Harry," said Lupin. "We just agreed-"Harry saw him glance at a pleased looking Hermione "-that a walk, and picnic would be a nice change. It will just be a short break before we go back to studying Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow."

"But...where are we going? Is it safe?" He looked from one adult to another. Tonks smiled at him.

"That's exactly why we're going! You worry too much, Potter, you need a break." She waved him over toward her. "Now, just put your arms around me from behind-don't be silly, come on-I'll be Disapparating, and you'll come along! Nice and simple."

And Harry, for a reason unknown, did exactly as he was told. His head buried in Tonks' long dark hair, he waited for something to happen.

"Ready? Lupin, Vance? All right, then...3, 2, 1-"


End file.
